


A Chuckletown Christmas Carol

by WhosePOV



Series: Loners Together [5]
Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, A Gifted Man, Joker (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Swearing, childhood illness, implied past childhood neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosePOV/pseuds/WhosePOV
Summary: On Christmas Eve, spirits intervene in an attempt to save holiday grump Hoyt from himself.
Series: Loners Together [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768006
Kudos: 3





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried not to, but I couldn't help it, so here it is. :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has strong language consistent with that used in Joker (2019).

Snow fell over Gotham. As usual, people hurried through the streets and went about their business, but there was something a little perkier in their step. Lights sparkled on dingy shop windows, and shabby-looking Santas rang bells for charity while shoppers dropped their change and sometimes more into metal receptacles. It was December twenty-fourth, and just about everyone felt a bit of the holiday spirit.

Except for one man.

Hoyt sat in his cramped office at Ha Ha's, smoking and grumbling while looking over his profit sheets--or lack of.

"Damn that freak Arthur Fleck. Ever since he was on _Live With Murray Franklin_ , half my clown bookings have gone to his place, Clown Kingdom. What kind of a stupid name for an agency is that? Fleck and his weirdo wife have stolen my business."

And stolen some of his best clowns, too. Like Gary. Fleck was setting a bad example, offering things like health insurance and sick pay to his employees. Pretty soon no one would want to work for minimum wage and no benefits. With Randall in jail, Hoyt didn't have any experienced clowns left.

How did a loser like Fleck end up a business owner, anyway?

He didn't think about how hard Fleck had worked to build up his reputation after Hoyt fired him. Of all people, Hoyt knew it wasn't easy to be successfully self-employed. Instead of caving in on himself and ending up on the streets, like Hoyt expected him to after he'd lost his job, Fleck had started his own business, gotten married, and was living an almost normal life.

Through his open door, Hoyt heard _Jingle Bells_ on the radio. Growling, he stood and walked to the door to slam it shut, nearly hitting one of his strippers in the face. Charli wasn't the brightest bulb in the lamp, but what a babe. Tall. Blond. Triple Ds.

"What do you want, baby doll?" Hoyt took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in her face.

She coughed a little. "Hoyt, I have to talk to you about something important."

"Now what? And when you go back out there, tell them to change that stupid Christmas music." He strode back to his desk and sat.

Charli remained standing, twisting her hands nervously. "Hoyt, I. . .uh. I can't go to my gig tonight."

"Why the hell not?"

"My kid. . .you know how he's been in the hospital? Well, the doctor said he's a little worse and I really need to be there."

"Listen, Charli, your kid is being taken care of. You need to pay the bills, and I need dependable performers. I thought that was you, but lately you've been taking too much time off."

"My son is sick, Hoyt. You know that."

He sighed. "I like you, Charli. The other girls think you're kind of a princess, but I like you. Okay, if you get someone to cover for you tonight, you can have it off."

"Thank you, Hoyt! Gemma already said she'd cover." Charli rushed toward the door.

"But no pay."

She paused, her smile fading, and looked at him with sad blue eyes. "But it's Christmas Eve."

"Yeah. And you ain't workin'. Now that I think about it, don't bother coming back. Broads like you are a dime a dozen."

Her pale face went even paler. "Hoyt, please. I really need this job."

He waved her away. Choking back a sob, Charli hurried off.

"It's always the same with these people." Hoyt curled his lip. "There's always an excuse. Fleck and his phony stories about getting jumped. Charli and her bullshit about seeing her kid an hour before her gig starts. I'm done being taken advantage of. I'm running a business here. Christmas Eve. So what's that supposed to mean?"

To Hoyt it meant stopping by the local bar and then heading home to eat the cold Chinese food leftovers from yesterday.

By the time he left Ha Ha's, everyone else was gone for the night. He checked the building, pausing in the men's dressing room. In the dimness, he thought he saw movement by the lockers.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

No one answered. He was about to turn, but saw a familiar silhouette across the room, yet he couldn't place exactly who it belonged to. It was tall and broad. Possibly bearded?

"If someone is there, get your ass over here right now!" Hoyt stomped toward the lockers, but no one was around. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Damn. I must be losing it. Who can blame me, working here?"

He quickly left Ha Ha's, locking the door behind him, and headed down the street to the nearest bar, _Llyod's_. It was just a small, dimly-lit joint that had been there for as long as he could remember. Hoyt had grown up not far from here, but he didn't like to think about the old days.

He sat on a stool, and Llyod--owner and bartender--strolled over. "Want your usual, Hoyt?"

"You got it." Hoyt reached for his wallet.

Llyod shook his head and grinned. "This one is on the house. It's Christmas Eve, and you've been coming here since. . .well, since you moved in with your Uncle Steven. He was a great guy."

"Yeah. Well, I'm no charity case." Hoyt placed bills on the counter, irritated.

"All right. If that's how you want it. Draft beer, coming up."

A moment later, Llyod placed a mug in front of Hoyt, but before he could take a sip, his worst nightmare walked through the door.

"Ho. . .Hoyt?" Arthur Fleck stammered. He wore the same old second-hand winter jacket he’d had for years. With his business doing so well, he could have at least bought a new coat. Snowflakes glistened in Fleck's dark, unkempt hair, and he stared at Hoyt with wide green eyes. Beside him stood Gary, his coat scarcely covering the red and green clown costume beneath. Another guy joined them. Extremely tall, he wore a goofy-looking handmade knit hat. The guy also had on socks and sandals. It figured Fleck would hang out with a hippie.

"Hey, Hoyt," Gary said, as pleasant as ever. It was annoying. "We're looking for Charli. She said she had some old clothes her son has outgrown to donate to the clothing drive at Clinica Sanando."

Hoyt took a drink from his mug. "Charli doesn't work for me anymore."

Both Arthur, Gary, and even Lloyd looked shocked.

"When did she leave?" Gary asked.

"Tonight."

"Tough break. I hope that doesn't mean her kid is any worse." Lloyd shook his head while polishing a glass with a towel.

"We can stop by her apartment," the tall man said. "See if she needs anything, and drop off the presents for her son, too."

Arthur grinned. "Great idea, Anton."

So this was Anton Little Creek. Charli and a couple of the people who kept in touch with Arthur and Gary had talked about this weirdo. Little Creek was supposedly some kind of medium or ghost whisperer or something like that. Hoyt didn’t believe in all that supernatural shit.

"We'll head to her place right now, before the storm gets too bad," Gary said. "It's supposed to be the worst blizzard Gotham has seen in years."

Hoyt didn't bother telling them that she and her kid were at the hospital, if it was even the truth. She was probably with some guy, making more money than Hoyt paid her for a gig.

"Hey, Hoyt, you don't have any old clothes you'd like to donate, do you?" Arthur asked. "We're taking food and toys, too. Lots of little kids who come to the Clinica won't have Christmas presents because their parents can't afford them. If you--"

"Get out of my sight, Arthur. Isn't it bad enough you're stealing my business? Now you have the balls to ask me for charity, too? I grew up without Christmas presents. I bet you did, too, and we survived."

Anton, Arthur, and Gary exchanged glances. The sympathy on their pathetic faces was too much. Hoyt took pity from no one, especially not from the likes of Gary, Fleck, and a Ghost Hunter.

"I said get out of my sight!"

Arthur glared at Hoyt with a rictus grin and a look of rage in his eyes that was way too creepy. Sometimes Fleck looked like a damn serial killer.

"Peace, brother," Anton said, holding up his hands in a passive gesture. "It's all right if you're a little angry. This is a rough time of year for many people, but if you try to open your heart--"

"I'll open your face, weirdo!" Hoyt balled his fist.

"Take it easy, Hoyt," Lloyd said. He glanced at Arthur, Gary, and Anton. "Excuse him. I can't even say he's had too much to drink yet. Can I get you guys something?"

"No, thank you," Arthur said. "We're going."

"Joy and peace, everyone!" Anton called before the three weirdos opened the door.

"Hey, Hoyt." Gary glanced back at him. "Merry Christmas."

Hoyt grasped a handful of peanuts from a nearby bowl and flung them at Gary before they stepped into the snowy night.

"Enough of that, Hoyt," Lloyd said. "Or else you'll have to go."

"Good. I'm outa here anyway." Hoyt drained his beer and stormed out of the bar.

The door closed behind him and he glanced around, a chill running through him. The streets were dark and empty. There was no sign of Arthur, Gary, or the hippie.

Weird.

Snow fell harder. Snuggling deeper into his coat, Hoyt hurried to his car. He let it run while he dusted off the snow. By the time he climbed in, it was starting to warm up. He relaxed. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all. He turned on the radio and an old version of _Joy to the World_ only riled him again, so he changed the channel.

"What is this?" He snarled. "I haven't heard this one in thirty years." Strangely, no matter what channel he switched to, he couldn't find a song that was made after 1955. Frustrated and more than a little creeped-out, he turned off the radio.

Hoyt lived on the ground floor of three-story apartment house. He rented the top two apartments, and was glad for the extra income, considering how he'd lost both employees and customers to Clown Kingdom.

In his apartment, he tossed his coat onto a chair and kicked off his shoes. After grabbing a beer and the leftover Chinese from the fridge, he turned on the TV and flopped on the couch.

There was an old Christmas flick about that Scrooge guy. Hoyt kinda liked him. The old dude knew what life was about. None of that icky sweet kindness, charity, and shit.

Those ghosts were pretty damn awful, though. Especially the last one. Imagine trying to make it seem like a guy would end up alone, miserable, and dead just because he didn't let other people take advantage of him.

The movie ended, and during a commercial, Hoyt took a piss. When he returned, _Live With Murray Franklin_ was on.

Hoyt rolled his eyes. He wasn't exactly a fan of Murray Franklin, especially since he'd given Fleck free advertising by having him on his show. Sometimes his guests were pretty good, though.

Hoyt drifted off to Murray's regular guest, Dr. Sally, talking about erectile dysfunction during the holidays.

"Wake up!"

Hoyt jumped, splashing beer and tossing fried rice all over his couch. Breathing hard, he glanced around the dark apartment.

"Phew." Hoyt pressed his palms into his eyes and shook his head. "Dreaming. Must have been dreaming."

"More like a nightmare."

Hoyt dropped his hands and stared at the transparent figure sitting on the chair where he'd thrown his jacket. Tall, thickly-muscled, and wearing a bushy black beard, Hoyt knew this man, though he hadn't seen him in almost forty years. Wait—hadn’t he been in the shadows at Ha Ha's? No. Hoyt was losing it.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue, boy?”

"D. . .Dad?" Hoyt stammered. "This is so fucked-up."

"Your life is fucked-up, son. I'm here to see that you don't make the same mistakes I did."

"First of all, you're a fucking hallucination. If I knew whatever mental problem Fleck has is contagious, I never would have hired him in the first place."

"Arthur Fleck isn't contagious, and he's doing a lot more with a lot less than you have. You've got to put your life in order, son, before you end up like me." The ghost held up hands bound by glowing handcuffs. "The time I did in life is nothing compared to the time I'm doing now. You're headed in the same direction, if you don't clean up your act."

"Hold on a second. I'm nothing like you. You took off when I was six years old and never looked back. You were a thief, a drug dealer, and you ended up in prison. I do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay and expect my employees to do the same."

"An honest day’s work? Okay. You're not lazy, I'll give you that, but you're a thief and a slum lord. The roof on this place is falling apart and you've had a family on the third floor living under it for how long?"

"I'll get around to fixing it." Hoyt grumbled, and then he pointed at the ghost. "I don't have to explain myself to you!"

"What about Arthur Fleck and his mental issues? You paid him a portion of what he should have earned when he worked for you, and he was too messed up and desperate to even realize it."

"I took a risk hiring him right out of the loony bin."

"He worked his skinny ass off for you, and you never gave him a fair day's pay. You even docked him when he got the shit beat of him by those kids. And what about Charli? Her kid might be dying, and you do what? Fire her because she wants to be with him on Christmas Eve. You're destroying yourself, son."

"Stop calling me son. You gave up that right when I was six."

The ghost flew at him. Despite being transparent, he somehow pinned Hoyt to the couch. Flaming eyes stared into Hoyt's. He squeezed his own shut, as if he could block out the spirit.

"If you won't listen to me, then you might listen to the others. Three spirits will visit you tonight, and you'd better listen. . ." His father's voice faded and the pressure pinning Hoyt to the couch eased.

He opened his eyes and looked around, trembling.

"That's what I get for eating old Chinese food." Hoyt struggled to regulate his breathing. "Bed. I need to get some sleep. That's all. Sleep in a real bed."

He turned off the TV and walked to his room. Not even bothering to undress, he flopped into bed and pulled the covers up to his neck.


	2. Part 2

Hoyt had just fallen asleep when children's voices singing _Joy to the World_ roused him.

"Must be damn Christmas carolers," he complained, yanking his pillow over his head to drown them out. "Why don't they just go home?"

"Home. That's what we're going to do, brother. Go home."

Hoyt shot to a sitting position, his heart slamming against his chest.

Anton Little Creek stood at the foot of his bed. The towering man looked even more like a hippie than ever, draped in a white robe belted with gold rope at his waist. He smiled gently and extended his hand. "Hello Hoyt. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past. Come with me."

"Hell no. I'm not going anywhere with you, creepo."

"I understand your fear, brother."

"You're not my brother."

"We're all brothers and sisters. We depend on each other for survival. For happiness. For compassion. There was a time when you understood these things. Let me show you." Little Creek walked around to the side of the bed.

"Keep away from me or I'll--"

Little Creek grasped his hand and there was blinding light. When Hoyt could see again, he stood in the corner of a tiny living room in a dilapidated apartment with worn rope carpets and cracked walls.

From outside the window came the sound of people talking and singing Christmas carols.

"What a dump," Hoyt said.

"Perhaps. Does it look familiar?" Anton asked.

"No. Why should--"

The door opened and a little boy in oversized second-hand clothes burst into the room. "Hey, ma! Ma! Guess what?"

"What is it, sweetie?" A thin woman with messy blond hair, her full breasts straining against a too-small red nightgown, shuffled into the room, two empty beer cans in her hands. "Mommy has a headache, so keep your voice down."

"Sorry, Ma," the boy said in an exaggerated whisper. "Guess what? I'm going to be in the school play. I'm going to be one of Santa's elves."

"That's good." She walked to the kitchenette and dumped the bottles in the sink. "You're home from school already? What time is it?"

"Five o'clock. I already delivered groceries from the market after school. Mr. Jenkins even gave me an extra quarter for Christmas."

"Okay, baby. Give it here." She held out her hand.

"She's just going to buy booze," Hoyt said with disgust. "That's what she always did. Hey, kid! Don't give it to her. Get yourself a Christmas present, because she sure as hell won't be giving you anything."

Anton glanced at him. "They can't hear you, Hoyt. These are mere shadows of the past. These events can't be changed."

"Don't I know it," Hoyt muttered. "Can we leave? It's bad enough I grew up here. I don't want to look at this place again."

"As you wish."

Another blinding light enveloped them, and when it faded, they stood outside Lloyd's bar. Sun shone over the snow-covered city, or as well as it could shine among Gotham's towering buildings. Down the street, a bunch of kids sang Christmas carols. Shops were decorated for the holidays.

"This is better," Hoyt said with a relieved sigh. "More normal."

The ghost merely smiled. How was the man not freezing in that thin white robe? And he was still wearing those damn socks and sandals.

A teenage Hoyt rushed past them and into the bar.

Anton and Hoyt followed.

"Uncle Steven. Guess what?" Teenage Hoyt approached a round-faced, gray-haired man sipping beer and watching TV at the bar.

"Hey, there's my boy!" Uncle Steven clapped Hoyt on the back. "Take a load off. Hey, Lloyd, bring my nephew a glass of orange juice."

"That's okay, Uncle Steven. I have to go back to the store to make deliveries," Hoyt said. "I just wanted to tell you that Mr. Jenkins is going to make me assistant manager as soon as I graduate next month. Isn't that great?"

Uncle Steven looked so proud. "My boy. You're turning into a man."

"I also have another job opportunity." Hoyt grinned. "In my free time, I'm going to be a clown."

"Well, you always said you love to perform."

"Someday, Uncle Steven, I'm going to have my own business. Maybe clowns. Maybe a grocery store. I don't know which, but I'm going to be somebody."

Uncle Steven cupped the back of the young man's head and smiled with genuine affection. "You already are. Always have been. If your mother was alive, she'd be so proud of you."

"Yeah." Hoyt stared at his younger self. "If she wasn't too drunk to care. If she hadn't gotten into a car with that John who hit a pole and killed her."

The ghost glanced at him with sympathy. "At least you had your Uncle."

"Yeah. Uncle Steven was the best. After my mom died, he took me in. He was always nice to me. Shit." Hoyt shook his head. "I know he wanted me to spend more time helping him out around the house, but I was always too busy working. He never said anything, though, except how proud he was of me."

"Where is he now?" the ghost asked.

Hoyt glared at him. "Don't you know everything? He died the same year I opened Ha Ha's."

"Ah, yes. He'd hoped to spend Christmas with you, but you had to fill in at a gig because one of your employees didn't show."

"The creep was a drunk. He was passed out somewhere while I filled in. I could have been with Uncle Steven. It was his last Christmas, but no, I had to work--"

"Like I said. There's no point in tormenting yourself over the past. Your Uncle didn't hold it against you. He admired your work ethic, and he loved you."

Hoyt dragged a hand over his teary eyes. "Enough of this shit."

"Very well."

More blinding light flashed, and then they were in his office at Ha Ha's.

His adult self from not too long ago, sat behind the desk. In front of him stood Arthur Fleck, looked skinner than ever in his patchwork clown suit. A frizzy green wig covered his usually greasy brown hair, and his face was painted into his Carnival persona. He looked both pathetic and maybe a little cute. Anyway, the kids at the children's hospital seemed to love him, so he got a lot of requests for Arthur to go there.

"Ha! Ha ha!" Arthur burst into uncontrollable, almost painful laughter.

"Come on, Arthur! What did I tell you? You have to show up for all your gigs every day, or else you're fired. I took a chance hiring you, remember?"

"I know. . .H. . .Hoyt," Arthur choked out. "But my. . .my ha. Ha!"

Hoyt rolled his eyes and waited while Arthur laughed and choked, his eyes streaming tears that smeared his clown make-up.

"Come on, Arthur! I haven't got all day!" Hoyt barked.

A flicker of self-disgust darted through Hoyt and he muttered, "It's not like the guy can help himself."

"What's the difference?" The ghost gazed at Hoyt with a passive expression. "He's just a freak, right? A weirdo?"

"Aw, shut up," Hoyt said and focused on the scene playing out in front of him.

"My counselor said she has to change my regular appointments to Wednesday afternoons," Arthur said. "Hoyt, I have to go. When I left the hospital, they said--"

"I know all about it. That's what I get for being a swell guy and hiring you. All right. You can go to your damn appointments and I won't schedule you for Wednesday afternoon gigs anymore, but you were five minutes late this afternoon at the Children's Hospital, though, so I'm docking your pay."

Arthur's lips quivered and Hoyt wasn't sure if he was going to laugh again or cry. "My rent is due and--"

"That's not my problem. Get out of here."

His watery green eyes downcast, Carnival left, lifting his feet unnaturally high to accommodate his oversized shoes.

"Well, I have to be strict or else employees will walk all over me." Hoyt wasn't sure why he felt the need to justify himself to the ghost.

"I'm not here to judge you."

"Come on! Everybody judges! Everybody is so fucking high and mighty. Everybody. . . " Hoyt's shouts faded.

He jerked awake, finding himself alone in his bed.

"That was fucked-up." Hoyt scrubbed a hand over his face. He glanced at the clock on his night table. Two-thirty in the morning. "I can't wait for this night to be over."

"Neither can I."

"Ah!" Hoyt jumped. His gaze riveted to the doorway where Gary stood, wearing a red and green clown costume, like the one he'd had on earlier at the bar. This was no ghost. "Gary, if you don't get the hell out of here, I'm going to squash you--"

"I'm going. I'm going." Gary smiled and winked. "But you're coming with me."

The room spun into a swirl of colors and when it stopped, Hoyt thought he might be sick.

"Dr. Jameson, you have a call on line three. Dr. Jameson, line three."

Once his head stopped spinning, Hoyt glanced around. He and Gary walked down a brightly-lit hospital corridor. They entered a room filled with children, some in bed, others sitting in chairs. Several had bald heads, no doubt from chemo, while others appeared healthy enough, but to be in this ward, they must be quite sick. A few nurses and orderlies mingled with the kids and several parents. Everyone's eyes fixed on Carnival the Clown. He danced, sang, and told stupid jokes that the kids found funny, at least. When he spun around, he nearly lost the dumb-looking antlers perched on his head.

"And they kept requesting him?" Hoyt muttered. “He’s not even a good clown.”

"You know that’s not true. He’s a very good clown, and the kids love Arthur," Gary said. "By the way, I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present."

"Yeah, well you can give me a present by getting me outta here."

The ghost's smile faded, and a stern look passed over his bearded face. "Not until you see what you have to see." He pointed toward the back of the room where Charli sat on a bed with a bald little boy. Despite his problems, the kid smiled and laughed when Arthur approached with a reindeer he’d made out of balloons.

"Charli didn't say her kid was this bad," Hoyt muttered. He hated feeling guilty.

"She told you he's been sick."

"But that could have been the flu or something."

The ghost raised an eyebrow. "You can lie to everyone else, but you can't lie to me or to yourself."

"I really didn't know he was this bad. He's a kid for crying out loud. Most of the time they get better fast."

"That depends on how sick they are, just like anyone else."

Carnival ended his performance and stepped aside to grab his plaid bag.

One of the nurses approached Carnival. "Thank you so much for coming here this morning, Arthur. You've helped make this Christmas special for the kids."

"It's my pleasure, " Arthur said with an exaggerated clown bow. He batted his lashes.

The nurse smiled and patted his shoulder. "It was kind of you to perform for free, too."

"Free?" Hoyt growled. "No wonder he's stealing my business. And who's stupid enough to work for free?"

"I'm happy to do it. If it wasn't for you requesting me so much, Hoyt probably would have fired me way sooner than he did," Arthur said.

The nurse smiled. "Well if you ask me, him firing you was a good thing, otherwise you'd probably still be working at Ha Ha's and there wouldn't be a Clown Kingdom. All of us here are so happy for your success, Arthur. You and Nicole are always there to support this hospital and the kids. We appreciate it."

"I think I might gag," Hoyt said.

"Carnival, I made this for you." Charli's son walked over to Arthur and offered him a hand-drawn card. Behind him, Charli smiled.

Carnival took the card, read it, and held it over his heart, batting his lashes before he bent to hug the boy.

"Go back to bed, honey," Charli said.

"Yes, mommy." The kid did as he was told.

"Thank you, Arthur, for the gifts you, Nicole, and Gary sent for Hayden. "

Nicole. Fleck's weirdo wife.

"Times have been tough," Charli went on. "The medical bills are killing me, and now that Hoyt fired me. . ." Charli shook her head, her pretty face etched with worry. "I think Lloyd will give me a job serving drinks, but it won't be enough. Hayden needs more treatments, and I don't know how I can afford them, but I can't stand to think of what will happen if he doesn't get them." She paused and wiped her eyes.

"If I'd have known her kid was this sick, I wouldn't have fired her," Hoyt said. He wasn't sure if he was angry at Charli, himself, or this whole rotten world.

"Why? She's just another employee taking advantage of you by needing time off," the ghost said.

"Go ahead. Rub it in."

Arthur placed a hand on Charli's shoulder. "We'll find a way. Nicole said maybe we can start a fundraiser or something like that."

"You guys have been really good friends."

"I know what it's like to be alone. We've got to stick together."

Colors swirled again, and Hoyt found himself and Gary the Ghost in a small, brightly-painted dressing room.

Arthur was there, in regular street clothes this time--a thick red, green, and gold Christmas sweater, and baggy jeans. His arm rested around the shoulders of a short, dark-haired woman with a damn fine body. Fleck's wife would have made a halfway decent stripper, with a body like that. Tits were a little small, but a great ass.

Anton Little Creek was there, and Gary, too, along with several more of Hoyt's former employees and a few other people Hoyt didn't know.

"I'm glad everything went well at the children's hospital," said Nicole, Fleck's wife. "And at least the streets are clear after that huge storm last night."

"I can't believe you two were snowed in here," Gary said to Arthur and Nicole.

"We made the most of it." Arthur grinned and kissed his wife.

Hoyt still couldn't believe someone had married Fleck. What kind of a woman wanted a skinny little freak like him?

"We have to do something to help Charli, though," Arthur said. "Things are getting real bad for her and Hayden."

"I can't believe Hoyt fired her," Gary said. "On Christmas Eve, just so she could spend time with Hayden who might not even be here next Christmas."

"I knew he was horrible when he fired Arthur, but this--" Nicole shook her head, disgusted. "He's a monster."

"Maybe we shouldn't judge too harshly," Anton said. "For someone to be so cruel, he must have a lot of hurt inside. If you ask me, we should send him positive thoughts. Maybe it will help in some way."

"I'd rather help Charli," Nicole said.

Anton smiled gently. "There's enough positive energy to do both, sister."

Colors swirled around them and when everything stilled again, Hoyt was back in his room, amidst his rumpled sheets.

Before he could even catch his breath, his door burst open. No one appeared. Just blackness.

"I know you're there, spirit." Hoyt shivered. "I know I have to talk to you, but I'm not sure what else you can show me. I've seen my lousy past and my crappy present. That means there's only--"

"The future. That's life, after all," said a high, energetic voice.

Arthur, in his full Joker regalia, strode out of the black void and into Hoyt's room. The red suit and gold vest clung to his thin frame. He ran a hand through his wavy green hair and stared at Hoyt through mismatched blue diamonds around his cold green eyes.

Words couldn't describe how much Hoyt hated this clown. He had made Arthur famous when he appeared on _Live With Murray Franklin_ , spewing all kinds of crap about social awareness. 

Joker pulled a cigarette from his pocket and took a drag. As if by magic, it lit upon contact with his painted red lips. "Let's get on with it."

"You're the--"

"Ghost of Christmas Future."

"Of all the ghosts I've met tonight, I fear you most of all."

"You fucking should." Joker took another long drag on the cigarette and blew smoke rings that turned into daggers before they faded away. "You're awful, Hoyt. You're cheap. Nasty. You walk all over people, and if there's one thing I know for sure, people like you get what they fucking deserve."

Without warning, Hoyt fell into a black void. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw. Then he landed with a grunt in front of Ha Ha's, except it wasn't like he remembered it. The windows were broken and the door was boarded up. Someone had drawn obscene cartoons over the sign.

"What the hell--" Hoyt pushed himself to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. "What the hell happened to my place?"

"Don't get all worked up." Joker leaned against a nearby telephone pole. He dropped his cigarette and squashed it out beneath his brown dress shoe. "This hasn't happened yet, but if you keep going the way you are, it will."

A gang of kids, shouting Christmas songs, ran by. They tossed cans and trash through the broken window.

"Get out of here, you punks!" Hoyt bellowed.

"They can't hear you." Joker laughed. "This way."

Hoyt knew better than to argue. He followed Joker into Lloyd's bar. Behind the counter, a younger man served drinks. In a corner table, sat a bent old dude. Wait--it was Lloyd. But who's that guy with him? He was slim with straight posture and long, wavy salt-and-pepper hair. His sharp black suit looked tailor-made. The guy looked too high class for this part of town. Hoyt approached, stunned to see that it was Arthur Fleck.

"I still can't believe it," Lloyd said. "Poor Charli. It's been years since little Hayden died, and she's worse than ever."

"I know." Arthur sighed. "I wish we could have done more to help her."

"We did as much as we could."

"I only wish I had as much money then as I do now. It might have made a difference for his treatments," Arthur said.

"You and Nicole did a lot for them. So did Gary, and your friends at Clinica Sanando."

"You, too, Lloyd. Because of you, Charli always had a job."

"She could have been so much more, but after her son died, she spiraled downward."

"The kid died." Hoyt couldn't explain why he felt so terrible. Charli was just a former employee, and he had never even met her son.

"What did you think was going to happen?" Joker snapped. "She was all alone with a sick kid and no job."

"This isn't all my fault."

Joker cast him a disgusted look. "No. It's not your fault. It's never any one person's fault when people are abandoned and treated like trash."

Again Hoyt fell into darkness. He woke in Gotham Cemetery, in front of a gravestone marked with Hayden's name. Charli, her long, graying hair resembling an abandoned bird's nest, knelt in a dusty black coat, a half-empty whiskey bottle in her chapped, dirty hand.

"I still can't believe this happened, baby," she slurred.

"Oh come on." Hoyt turned away. "Why should I feel bad about this? I can't be Mr. Fix It for every freak and loser in Gotham."

"What makes you think you're not _the_ biggest freak and loser in Gotham?" Joker snarled. "Even someone as screwed up as Fleck found love. Why? Because his heart wasn't dead, like yours."

"My heart's not--" Hoyt paused. How could he argue? It had been so many years since he'd even thought about what it meant to have a heart.

Joker pointed to another corner of the cemetery.

"Now what?" Hoyt demanded.

Joker didn't speak, merely grinned big and eerie and continuing pointing.

Hoyt walked toward a grave overgrown by weeds. It looked like no one ever visited. The person in there was long forgotten, and by the cheap marker, no one had ever cared about him. Or her. _Maybe it's a her_ , Hoyt thought hopefully, though a sense of dread filled him.

He brushed aside the weeds and fell back, shaking his head at the sight of the name on the marker.

_Hoyt Vaughn._

"No!"

"It's your grave, Hoyt. One you dug yourself," Joker said. "It might have been different for you. Maybe you'd have friends. Maybe even a family, but all you knew how to do was screw people over."

"I did what I had to."

"You had to treat Arthur like dirt? You had to fire Charli?"

"That was just--"

"You reap what you sow, Hoyt, isn't that what they say?"

"I can change this, right? The future isn't here yet. I can change!"

Joker laughed, a high-pitched cry that echoed in Hoyt's ears.

"I can change! I can change! I can--"

Hoyt landed hard on his bed.

Sunlight streamed through the window.

"What the hell?" He jumped up. Not even bothering to put on shoes, he ran outside. Ice and snow bit into his feet.

A kid from the top floor apartment played in the snow while his father shoveled an old Chevy out of the fluffy white mounds.

"Hey! What's today?" Hoyt called, shivering in the frigid air.

"Are you crazy, Mr. Vaughn?" said the kid. "It's Christmas!"

Hoyt closed his eyes and sighed. It was still today!

"Eh, are you okay over there?" the kid's father shouted.

"Yeah. I'm good," Hoyt said. "And I'll get the roof fixed as soon as I can, okay?"

The man looked shocked, but Hoyt didn't have time to explain.

It was Christmas Day!

* * *

"And then he threw a handful of peanuts at me," Gary laughed and shook his head before taking a sip of eggnog from the cup in his hand.

"Are you serious?" Nicole asked.

"Hoyt's a piece of work, all right," Arthur said.

Hoyt stood outside the open doors of Clown Kingdom, allowing two guys carrying boxes of wrapped gifts to pass.

He entered, and Nicole, Arthur, and Gary stared at him.

"Hoyt?" Arthur asked.

"What do you want? Shouldn't you be off somewhere kicking puppies?" Nicole said coolly. She was a firecracker all right. Crazy, but a firecracker.

"I'll kick puppies tomorrow." Hoyt curled his lip at her. "I stopped by with a trunk full of stuff for your charity drive, so if you want it, get it."

"He's lying." Arthur looked disgusted. "Get out, Hoyt. This is my place, and I don't want you here."

Hoyt turned and left abruptly. If they didn't believe him, he'd have to show them. He gathered up a bunch of clothes and food from his trunk, carried it into Clown Kingdom, and dropped it on the floor.

Arthur, Nicole, and Gary stared at him in shock.

"I don't need all this shit, so take it," Hoyt said.

"You're serious." Arthur stared with wide green eyes. "I don't know what to say, Hoyt, except thanks."

"This doesn't mean I like you, Arthur." Hoyt turned to leave.

"Hey," Nicole said. "Do you want some eggnog? We still have tons in the fridge from our Christmas party yesterday."

Hoyt raised an eyebrow. "Ain't it a little early for that? I didn't think you even touched liquor, Arthur."

"We don't," Nicole replied. "This eggnog is alcohol-free and vegan. Anton made it."

"What the hell is vegan?" Hoyt curled his lip. "Forget it. Thanks anyway, but I have a lot of stuff to do."

It was still pretty early, so Hoyt drove to Charli's apartment. He noticed her at the bus stop and pulled over.

"Hey, get in. Are you going to the hospital? I'll give you a ride."

She looked haughty and snuggled deeper into her threadbare winter coat. "I don't want anything from you, Hoyt."

"How about a job? I kinda lost it yesterday when I fired you. Sorry."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you serious? You're going to hire me back?"

"Yeah, but not as a stripper. I have a shit load of paperwork and stuff. Lots of bookings, you know. I really need a secretary. I figured I'd give you first crack at the job, if you want it."

"Yeah. Thanks, I. . .I don't know what to say, Hoyt."

"Get in. We'll talk about salary and benefits and stuff."

"Benefits?"

"Yeah. It's a new idea I'm looking into. I figure, if Fleck can do it, why can't I? Where to? The hospital? I bet Hayden can't wait to see his mom."

Charli hesitated a moment before climbing into the car.

Hoyt turned on the radio to _Jingle Bells_. It was going to be a great day.

* * *

Though Clown Kingdom put Hoyt entirely out of the clown business, he continued booking strippers, and eventually, other acts, too. He sold Ha Ha's and bought Lloyd's bar after Lloyd retired.

Hoyt and Charli started dating and finally got married after Hayden, who fully recovered, graduated from high school. Hayden became the son Hoyt never thought he'd have. Charli remained friends with Gary, Arthur, and Nicole, and while Hoyt and Arthur would never be friends, per se, they learned to tolerate each other.

While everything wasn't perfect, it was as close at it could get.

As Arthur and Murray Franklin liked to say, that's life.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! I hope you have a safe, healthy, and happy 2021!


End file.
